


One and Only

by KaenOkami



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Abusive Parents, Dysfunctional Family, Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internal Monologue, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 10:44:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12431130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaenOkami/pseuds/KaenOkami
Summary: As she waits for her final confrontation with Hakuryuu and Judal, Arba muses on her children, of past and present.





	One and Only

**Author's Note:**

> This fic brought to you by my favorite Magi edit on Tumblr (http://kaen-ace-of-ravenclaw.tumblr.com/post/154128571286/shebasborgmother-son) and my realization that the song used in the opening quote fits both Arba and Hakuryuu equally well.

_“To think I once believed it true, that I could serve my country through your holy court  
But I no longer fight for kings, the biased men with paper wings and bloody wars  
I challenge the holy to unholy conflict, I declare war between heaven and hell  
The blood of the living shall be my reward, for serving my master so well._  
\- _I Am Condemned,_ West End Dracula

~0~

She had honestly never expected it to go this far.

The royal throne is cold, rigid steel and gold, but Arba lounges in it as comfortably as if it were a soft chaise. She sits, the silent throne room lined with al-Thamen’s ranks, and waits patiently for her son to arrive. She’s seen him, through the many eyes of her men on the outside, watched him emerge from Belial’s dungeon with his rukh dyed a deep and shimmering black. And though she knows that it would have been more prudent to keep a closer eye on Judal instead (he is, after all, the one that they had specifically raised to be a world-shattering force of destruction), she can’t seem to care about him right now.

Her eyes are drawn to Hakuryuu, instead, as he charges on Rakushou with his stolen, dead-eyed army behind him and murder burning in his eyes. 

It’s more than she had ever expected of him. All these years, he’d been nothing to her, nothing but a mildly entertaining plaything. His falling into depravity was only to be expected, considering what she had done to him to make it happen, but the idea that the boy would actually grow strong enough to match her? She had, of course, never given that much weight at all. Hakuryuu had been insignificant his entire life. Born early, a too-small, sickly infant who wailed inconsolably whenever outside the comfort of his mother’s arms, and then grown into a cowardly boy who spent his earliest years hiding behind his older, stronger siblings, and clinging to her like a lifeline. After the fire, she had left him behind, cast him into the shadows and thought that that must be the end of it. He would stay there, alone with his hatred, forever the weakling child too frightened and impotent to really threaten her.

Or so she had thought, these past ten years. But she should have known all along, that it would come down to this, a rebellion and a certain fight to the death. After all, she had done just the same herself, long ago.

Arba watches Hakuryuu raise his sword, as his grotesque soldiers surge forward to clash with the imperial troops, and roar to the battle raging around him that he is coming to claim his place as the rightful king, and sees herself. Her self of millennia past and a world long forgotten, who thrust a queen’s divine staff to the sky and screamed for justice, for bloody revolution. Even now, she can still hear her soldiers as one around her, shouting assent. It’s one of the very few moments from back then that she still remembers with absolute clarity. The rush of hot blood from a pounding heart, the vicious euphoria of battle, the clashing of iron in the ears and its taste on the tongue, and in the head the clarion call that proclaims, _I am righteous...!_

In this, here in this moment, she and Hakuryuu are one and the same. 

A faint smile pulls at her lips, and something like a laugh escapes her. 

What was it she had said, that final night, confessing to her eldest sons just how much blood was on her hands? _Arrogance must be punished, unjust kings cast down, and all humans freed from the curse of predetermined fate._ Hakuyuu and Hakuren -- unshakeable, eternal prisoners of Solomon’s will; she will never forgive him for stealing _her_ sons away -- had not understood that and had not wanted to. Over the centuries, the scores of offspring, she had begun to give up hope that any of them ever would.

Oh, she’s had a few interesting children here and there, who had come fairly close. Yaiba, her true firstborn, a thousand years ago. A fascinating girl, midnight-haired and dusky-eyed and always earnestly smiling. At first glance, she was almost a mirror image of Arba’s first body, but with eyes full of innocence where her mother’s held scarlet fire, a soft and mild heart where her mother’s is ice and steel. From birth, she had taken al-Thamen’s teachings gladly and never thought of rebelling, but only because she knew no better, not because she truly believed. Her hands had been clever with the sword, as befitted her name and her heritage, but she could not be taught to love war and bloodshed, and she had howled and sobbed when her mother’s soul had been forced inside her. 

The child had served her purpose, as the first test subject of her mother’s possession technique and the progenitor of all her vessels to come. But Arba sometimes has to wonder whether Yaiba’s kind nature had somehow spoiled her descendants, almost as much as the white rukh that she so detests having to see overtaking her own children. Hakuei is proof enough of that, now, she thinks wryly; she’ll be happy to one day overwhelm the foolish girl’s bright soul with her own darkness. But, just the same, there is proof otherwise.

There’s Gyokuen, far and away her favorite daughter, the only one of her children to inherit her fiery zeal. Her quiet but driving hunger to kill and torment, carefully hidden behind a sweet and kind veneer copied from Arba’s own, and her fierce need to both please her mother and to own her...Such things, painstakingly honed and encouraged from childhood, were the perfect metal from which Arba had forged a perfect tool. 

Unwaveringly devoted to her mother, so much so that she had actually begged to be possessed -- to “become one with her,” that was what she’d kept bleating, wasn’t it? The girl had gone so far as to kill her own siblings in cold blood, to leave Arba with no choice but to give her what she wanted, and even now the memory still delights and amuses her. Gyokuen is better than anyone she has ever had before...And yet deep down, Arba knows that her daughter does not truly care about her plans or her purpose. She feels deeply and intensely, but thinks much less so, and has no convictions save the childish urge to satisfy her own selfish desires. 

In her way, Gyokuen is just as blind to the truth as everyone else, and the thought, given too much attention, is enough to make Arba grit her teeth in frustration. They had done so much together, she had ripped Solomon’s rukh away from her precious daughter and replaced it with her own, they even shared a body...But despite it all, they will never be truly connected.

Truth be told, she never thought that she would feel any true connection to any of her children, regardless of whether she became fond of them or not. But now...

“Gyokuen-sama...? Pardon me, my lady?”

Tugged out of her reverie at the sound of her daughter’s name, Arba doesn’t move, only lifts her gaze to regard the nameless priest who had approached the throne. “Yes? What is it?”

“Prince Hakuryuu and Judal have breached the inner walls of the palace. If not stopped, they will arrive here soon. Shall we eliminate them here?”

“No.” She doesn’t need to think about her answer. “No, you will all stay where you are and leave the boys be. They are mine to deal with.”

A deep murmur of agreement ripples through the room, and Arba considers peering into their rukh for another glimpse of her son, but decides it doesn’t matter. She will see him in the flesh soon enough. And in him, she thinks, she may finally find that connection, that she had never known before in her life.

Because, unlike any other child she has birthed, Hakuryuu _understands._

He sees this world for what it is: a false, deceitful, repulsive place that can only be despised. He rejects Solomon’s will with a ferocious will of his own, curses his brutal fate, and fights with all his strength against the family that had betrayed him, the world that had forced him to suffer. He’s not like his cousins, too spineless to confront the treason and corruption she flaunts before their eyes, and he’s not like his sister, too lost in the tunnel vision of her own noble ideals to see the truth right in front of her face. And while she may treat him as such, he’s not like any of her pawns, either. Hakuryuu is determined to forge his own path, break apart destiny until he is free, until those he idolized and his own destroyed innocence are avenged. 

But she knows, too, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that he will not stop after killing her. He knows no other way, has no other reason to live; he will destroy this damned world and everyone in it, and only then, at the moment of death, will his wrath and bloodlust be satisfied. And whether he realizes it or not, he will have fulfilled her mission and give her everything she ever wanted, even after she’s gone.

However, she does not expect Hakuryuu to actually survive his battle with her, even with Judal by his side. She has too much confidence in herself, as a being that holds centuries’ worth of power, and mastery of magic and swordsmanship alike, to even consider that she could lose to two desperate little boys. And in any case, even if they do manage to overpower her, it isn’t her that will face the killing blow. Loyal Gyokuen’s soul still sleeps within this body, waiting for her mother’s call, and no matter how good an actress she is, there’s no way that she’ll be able to talk Hakuryuu down or clue him in to what’s really going on. She won’t wake the girl now, though; Gyokuen has always been ready to serve at her mother’s whim, but there is quite the difference between killing for someone else’s sake and being killed for them, and she has no way of knowing how willing the girl really is to go through with the latter. 

(And in any case, Gyokuen has always been panicky about the idea of being caught and punished for what she’s done, and though she’s stopped insisting that Hakuryuu be killed to protect them both, she had continued to regard their youngest far more nervously than was necessary, in Arba’s opinion. After all the years of ignoring her daughter’s pleas for caution to avoid this exact situation, Arba is in no mood to wake her now only to hear an exasperated, “I told you so!”)

It doesn’t matter which one of them survives this fight; Hakuryuu won’t win, won’t even come close. The boy was never meant to have a happy ending. But she doesn’t care about that future. It’s what’s in Hakuryuu’s heart now that matters to her, the unbreakable bond of blood and fire that has formed between mother and child. He alone knows the same righteous hatred and all-consuming rage that she does, the same ironclad convictions, he for his brothers and she for her Father. He alone has taken her ideals and her lust for destruction fully into himself. He alone she thinks she can -- 

At that moment, the towering double doors of the throne room burst open, slamming against the walls, and she sits up and looks out with full attention for the first time. 

As expected, Hakuryuu storms in, with Judal at his heels. The young Magi looks for all the world like a mad attack dog, blood-red eyes blown wide with sadistic excitement and newly bolstered magic sparking and crackling around him. And in his head, she is certain, he hears the same shrill ringing of the rukh and the same hissing voice that she does. Any other time, she would be interested to examine how her pet project has changed, and she is mildly surprised to find that she still couldn’t care less.

Even now, Arba only has eyes for her son, whose own eyes are locked onto her face as if they are the only two people in the world. Though he’s beaten and exhausted from struggling to make it to this place, those eyes burn stronger than ever, icy fury and fierce blue fire. His face is fixed in a savage glare that promises blood, murder, vengeance. His Metal Vessels gleam with the Djinns’ power, and his fingers clutch Zagan’s spear so tightly that his knuckles have gone white. 

Such a pleasant sight already, but seeing up close how the dark rukh flutters and swirls around him makes something in her heart stir, like nothing she has ever felt before. It’s astonishing, the difference it makes...He is not the same coward that she has tortured and belittled for all these years. That boy died in Belial’s dungeon, and he has been reborn, free and pure, body and soul bathed in her darkness. 

_So beautiful, so perfect now..._

Hakuryuu’s lips twist into a vicious snarl, and he stands up straight and tall, raises his blade to point it directly at her throat. “Ren Gyokuen, I am here to kill you!” he thunders, echoing in the high-ceilinged throne room.

The hair on the back of Arba’s neck stands on end, and her mouth opens and stretches into a wolf’s smile. No, she never thought that this would happen, before, but she should have known it all along. After all, Hakuryuu has proven that, more than anything else, he is his mother’s son.

_Yes, my son, my only true child..._

Hakuryuu still glares fiercely, daring her to meet his challenge. Her hand itches for a sword, even as her magic prickles at her fingertips. She knows that her forces may very well be more than enough to dispatch them right here and now, and of course she will call the attack, but she finds herself hoping that he survives it, to take her on himself. She burns to move, to slake the deepest desires of her soul and enter the rush of battle. 

_Do you know, Hakuryuu? Do you realize what you are? You’re like no child I’ve ever had before, or will ever have again. Out of hundreds, you may be the only one..._

She stares directly into Hakuryuu’s eyes, never blinking, never breaking her gaze, adoring what she sees in him. Oh, she is going to _savor_ this memory for the rest of her life. Now, at the end, she will become closer to her son than ever before; they will meet in blood and flesh and steel until, for those few precious instants, they will be one. 

_...You are the only one I think I could love._


End file.
